<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tunes<\/strong><\/p>\n ‘Right to the bone’ he would order. Tractor chugging graders ran through, in I was always glad to get out, well mowed. My father once took us in there. Flat cap men, dull coloured clothes Prisoners tinned squeezed into trailers <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Gareth Culshaw<\/strong> is an aspiring writer who hopes one day to achieve something special with the pen. He resides in North Wales with his family and animals…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Tunes Next to the cattle market A long alleyway room, where electric looking chairs waited. Tunes the barbers. ‘Right to the bone’ he would order. I sat quietly, as the snipping teeth bumped along. Tractor chugging graders ran through, in bends over hill shaped heads. The cow dung wafted in sometimes filling […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11875","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11875","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11875"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11875\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11878,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11875\/revisions\/11878"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11875"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11875"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11875"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nNext to the cattle market
\nA long alleyway room, where electric
\nlooking chairs waited. Tunes the barbers.<\/p>\n
\nI sat quietly, as the snipping teeth bumped along.<\/p>\n
\nbends over hill shaped heads.
\nThe cow dung wafted in sometimes
\nfilling our nostrils with farm life.<\/p>\n
\nBut groaning came from next door as we left.<\/p>\n
\nHe was a city boy, so it was new to us both.<\/p>\n
\nhoof kicking, stomping cattle.
\nWe stood and watched, feeling out of place.<\/p>\n
\ntook to new hills, waiting to be cut.<\/p>\n